On the death coloured chariot

And so was the brow of Sigmund humbled as he did gaze upon the chariot, gleaming in the son. The ashen colour of its flanks did blind his eyes as he surveyed the lines of the labor and pride of his tribe.

So didst the chariot finally arrive. The great wheeled land beast didst carry many chariots from the distant homelands in the south. With baited breath and great anticipation didst Sigmund greet the chariot. Spake to it in hushed tones and rub away the toils and hardship of the road.

With great poignancy didst Sigmund lower himself into the deep set seat of the mighty and sleek chariot. It was as he had remembered it. Cool to the touch, a warm purr felt through the vibrations of the felt covered reins.

As Sigmund brought his chariot from cool sleep into wakeful life didst the beast roar and shatter the silence that had beset the conglomerate of giant wheeled land beasts.

Through the mountain passes of the great city of the North did Sigmund and the chariot acquaint themselves with the details and feel of each other. An understanding was reached.

Sigmund and the chariot would consent to the company of the other, so that their goals and conquest of the North could be speedy. Until the time when the North was subjugated below their heels, at which time the alliance may end, so each may sally forth and battle for the North between the only two true Warriors from the South present in these lands.

Great battles await, until then, Sigmund rides the death coloured chariot. Let all fear the reaper of mountain passes and winding asphalt.